


Always Too Interested

by Cantatrice18



Category: Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children - Ransom Riggs, The Library of Souls - Ransom Riggs
Genre: Extended Scene, Gen, Obsession, Tension, inappropriate feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-11
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-09-23 12:31:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9657620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cantatrice18/pseuds/Cantatrice18
Summary: From the very beginning, Jack's interest in his sister has been out of the ordinary. Only once Alma is captive and helpless in the arms of the grimbear does the extent of his obsession become known.An extended version of a scene in Library of Souls, written first from Bentham's perspective, then Miss Peregrine's and Caul's.





	1. Always Too Interested

The grimbear held her fast, great furred arms trapping her delicate body, her pale skin against the beast's brown hair making her appear even more vulnerable. Bentham allowed himself a moment to gloat, seeing the haughty and priggish Miss Peregrine brought so low by a creature he himself had trained. How quickly she went from lecturing schoolmarm to naked, defenseless captive. But then, her shifts out of bird form had always left her at a disadvantage, her prudery immediately apparent. Not like Jack, who felt not the least bit of shame upon transforming. Perhaps he enjoyed the shock on people's faces. Either way, it had always given him the advantage over their sister when they were children.

Jack walked over to join them, a swagger in his step as he drank in the sight of the captive Ymbryne. "Well, Alma. You are in trouble, aren't you?"

"Let go of me," Miss Peregrine's eyes flashed with anger. "You've lost, your hollows are gone. Give yourself up."

Bentham had to admire his sister's boldness, even in the face of overwhelming odds. Jack, however, simply laughed. "Lost? No, no, Alma, on the contrary. I finally have what I've always wanted."

He'd drawn closer now, close enough to reach out and touch Miss Peregrine's waist. "A way to the Library of Souls," he murmured. "A Librarian to guide me on my path to immortality." His face was inches from hers. "And of course, my dearest sister, here to experience every moment with me. What else could a man ask?"

Jack leaned in as though to kiss her and she turned away, but not before Bentham caught the look of despair on her face. The sight made all his joy in witnessing her downfall melt into nothingness. "Brother," he said sharply, his voice harsh enough to make Jack look up. "Stop this. You've caught her, the children won't fight against you now, let's get on with it."

Jack's annoyance was plain. "Really, brother, what's the point of a battle if you can't enjoy the spoils."

His fingers caressed Miss Peregrine's hips, thumbs sliding smoothly over the arches of her hip bones. "Take your hands off her," Bentham blurted out, before he could stop himself.

Jack looked at him in surprise, one eyebrow raised. "I beg your pardon?"

"You've always had too much of an interest in her," Bentham said, ignoring his own embarrassment and trying not meet Miss Peregrine's eyes. "It isn't right."

For a moment Jack was lost for words. Then a smile began to spread across his lips. "Why, brother," he said slowly, "I do believe you're jealous."

"Jealous?" Bentham blinked, stunned. "Of course I'm not jealous."

"You want her for yourself," Jack needled, eyes bright with malicious glee. "But don't worry. I'll share. Once I'm through with her, that is."

"Stop saying things like that," Bentham yelled, not caring anymore who heard them. "For God's sake, man, she's your own sister. It's indecent."

Carefully, deliberately, Jack removed his hands from Miss Peregrine's waist, holding them above his head in a false imitation of a captured criminal. " As you wish, brother. I'll keep my hands to myself for now."

"And give her back some clothes," Bentham added quickly. He was finding it very hard to look at Miss Peregrine, now that his brother had gotten him thinking along such lines.

Jack considered for a moment, then shook his head, a sneer curling his upper lip. "I think not," he decreed. "I like the idea of Alma kneeling naked at our feet once we've become gods. It has a certain poetic justice about it. But I'll let you carry her till we get there."

He turned back to the waiting crowd of peculiars and Ymbrynes. Bentham risked a glance at his sister. With Jack gone, Miss Peregrine's iron composure had momentarily slipped away, and she leaned into the grimbear's arms, head hanging and knees grown weak. Bentham wondered just what Jack had done to her, during her days in captivity and before. How much had he overlooked, due to admiration for his older brother or jealousy of her skill? 

Jack signalled imperiously to him, and with a heavy heart he gestured for the grimbear to lift Miss Peregrine up and throw her bodily over its shoulder. The look of withering disdain she shot him when their eyes met did nothing to assuage his guilt. In order to silence the voice of his conscience, he promised himself that, should Jack's scheme work and he receive the powers of a great peculiar, he would do everything he could to keep his sister safe. Nothing could stop the nagging feeling that he should have begun protecting her a long time ago.


	2. Give Yourself Up

The beast's arms around her were as firm and inescapable a cage as any steel-barred prison. She'd been such a fool to transform out of sight of the others, her own misguided desire for modesty leading yet again to her defeat. How could she have forgotten the ways in which Jack had always targeted her, ambushing her mid-transformation in order to catch her at her most vulnerable? She deserved to be caught, even if her capture had come from an unexpected source. Myron was weak, yes, easily swayed by power or wealth, but she had never imagined him capable of colluding with Jack after all Jack had done to him. Obviously she had been wrong. She saw Myron's satisfied smile out of the corner of her eye, and felt rage and hurt welling up within her. The feeling grew as she saw an all-too-familiar figure approaching. Jack's expression was gloating as he looked her over, his lips curving into a sneer as he took in her mussed and tangled hair and her bare body hidden only by the grimbear's strong arms. "Well, Alma. You are a sight, aren't you?"

"Let go of me," she hissed, anger making her tremble. "You've lost, your hollows are gone. Give yourself up."

Jack laughed, a wicked gleam in his eyes. "Lost? No, no, Alma, on the contrary. I finally have what I've always wanted."

He drew closer, reaching out to caress her waist. His touch was tender, like that of a lover. "A way to the Library of Souls," he purred. "A Librarian to guide me on my path to immortality." His face was inches from hers, the edges of his manicured nails digging into her back. "And of course, my dearest sister, here to experience every moment with me. What else could a man ask?"

He leaned to kiss her, his grip on her waist tightening. She turned her face away, knowing the gesture was futile. He had her, and he knew it. There was no escaping him this time.

"Brother."

The voice was Myron's, the reprimand in it clear enough to momentarilty distract Jack from his pursuit of her. "Enough of this. You've caught her, the children won't fight against you now, let's get on with it."

Jack's annoyance was laced with scorn as he looked over at Myron. "Really, brother, what's the point of a battle if you can't enjoy the spoils?"

His thumbs slid down to trace the the arches of her hip bones, his fingers tensing possessively. She closed her eyes, preparing for the worst and trying to distance her mind from the shame ahead.

"Take your hands off her."

Her eyelids fluttered open, shocked at the vehemence in Myron's voice. Jack, too, seemed surprised by their brother's sudden courage. "I beg your pardon?"

"You've always had too much of an interest in her," Myron said. He sounded embarrassed by his own outspokeness. "It isn't right."

Some little spark of hope, long thought dead, rekindled within Miss Peregrine's heart. Perhaps all was not yet lost. Perhaps Myron would once again rethink his allegiance, and come to his senses. At the very least, he might dissuade Jack from degrading her in front of her children.

Then, just as she was allowing her imagination to run away with her, she saw Jack smile. Her heart sank once more. She recognized that sly, knowing look. Jack only wore it when he was certain he'd won. "Why, brother," he said slowly, "I do believe you're jealous."

"Jealous?" Myron looked taken aback, and she didn't blame him. Throughout their childhood, he'd never shown the slightest interest in her. Not in the way Jack had, anyway. "Of course I'm not jealous," he protested.

"You want her for yourself," Jack sounded almost gleeful, as though he'd discovered a secret Myron hadn't wanted anyone to learn. "But don't worry, I'll share. Once I'm through with her, that is."

He resumed his attention to Miss Peregrine's waist, hands gliding upwards to rest just beneath her breasts. "Stop saying things like that," Myron yelled, a note of desperation in his voice. "For God's sake, man, she's your own sister. It's indecent."

Jack halted, fingers arrayed neatly in the spaces between her ribs. He seemed to be considering their brother's words. Then, to Miss Peregrine's shock, he lifted his hands off her body and held them up like a robber caught in the act. "As you wish, brother. I'll keep my hands to myself for now."

"And give her back some clothes," Myron added quickly. He seemed relieved that Jack had listened to him, and she noticed his ears were burning, a blush readily apparent on his cheeks. He seemed unable to look at her, his eyes darting away each time he got close. Sudden understanding struck her, and her half smile was both bitter and sympathetic. For all his many faults, the younger of her two brothers had never once thought of her as a conquest, never considered the idea that a sister and a lover might be the same. He could be a spineless coward, yes, and a self-serving ass, but when it came to intimacy he was an idealist, an innocent. The knowledge that Jack desired her must have come as quite the shock. Even now, as he kept his gaze firmly focused on a neutral point some two feet above her head, she saw how rattled he looked.

Jack appeared to be considering Myron's demands. "I think not," he said at last, shaking his head. "I like the idea of Alma kneeling naked at our feet once we've become gods. It has a certain poetic justice about it. But I'll let you carry her till we get there."

All the foolish hopes she'd allowed to build within her collapsed into ashes. The future he'd so flippantly rattled off was as horrifying as anything her nightmares might construct. To be enslaved, kept as a pet or a concubine, was bad enough, but she knew that her brother would not stop until he had broken her will entirely. His tortures would be endless and cruel to the extreme. Her children would be at his mercy, and she knew from experience how little mercy he was capable of. She felt her knees buckle as despair overwhelmed her, leaning into the grimbear's encircling arms to keep from falling. Myron was staring at her, his gaze so different than Jack's. Her instincts told her, begged her, to cover herself and hide her body from view. It had always been that way, from the very first time Jack's intentions toward her had become apparent. Even as a little girl she'd thought of her clothing as protection, a barrier between herself and the piercing, violating gaze of her brother. Myron might be innocent of such lewd and unspeakable thoughts, but he was still a man. 

From afar she saw Jack signal, and a moment later the grimbear had lifted her into the air and flung her bodily over its massive shoulder. She felt the sun strike the backs of her legs, her long dark hair falling over her face and neck. Looking up, she caught sight of an odd longing expression on Myron's face, not quite desire, but not entirely innocent either. Her thoughts returned to the accusations of jealousy Jack had leveled against him. Perhaps they were not so wrong after all. 

His eyes met hers and he reddened once more. Disgusted, she shot him a withering look of disdain. One brother was bad enough. She didn't need a second joining in. 

The grimbear began to march, and she decided against any attempt at escape. There would be no point, not with both brothers against her. Her only hope was that, in his hubris, Jack would make a mistake. For the sake of her children, she could only hope.


	3. Poetic Justice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: mentions of past sexual assault, incest, and child abuse.

Of all the people to finally subdue Miss Peregrine, his brother was the last person he'd expected. Yet there she was, caged by the grimbear his brother had trained so long ago, her neat, prim figure as bare as the day she was born. A thrill of triumph rushed through him like sluicegates opening, the feel he always had when his intelligence and perseverance bested her natural talents. "Well, Alma," he crooned as he approached her. "You are a sight, aren't you?"

"Let go of me," she hissed, the familiar ring of her voice reduced to a rasp of anger. "You've lost, your hollows are gone. Give yourself up."

He laughed, amused at her perpetual need to fight on, to deny defeat. That had always been her problem, in their youth. She could never admit herself bested, never knew when to quit. But she would learn. "Lost?" he asked theatrically. "No, no, Alma, on the contrary. I finally have what I've always wanted."

He drew closer, one hand instinctively reaching out to stroke her waist. Her body called to him, perhaps because of their shared transformation. In all his years of research he'd never heard of another two Peregrines alive at once, much less a male and female together. Often, when he had managed to capture her and had chained her by the leg, he'd wonder what would happen if he simply allowed his wilder instincts to take over. Would she lay eggs in a nest? And would they be bird sized, or human sized? The idea made him chuckle, the thought of his prudish little sister attempting to sit on eggs the size of babies. The offspring were only one aspect of their union, and an unimportant one at that. His body longed for hers in a way no other woman, peculiar or otherwise, could imitate. The feel of her now, soft beneath his fingers, brought back feelings half-forgotten with time. She was leaning away, her fear visible to him and him alone. Always hiding her weaknesses, his Alma. 

Drawing close, he murmured, "A way to the Library of Souls. A Librarian to guide me on my path to immortality." His lips were close enough to brush her cheek, the sweet hint of lavender that clung to her skin filling his nostrils and setting him ablaze. He heard her intake of breath as his grip on her waist tightened. "And of course," he finished, "My dearest sister, here to experience every moment with me. What else could a man ask?"

He leaned in to kiss her, anticipation making him salivate like a dog, but she turned away. He barely had time to register a flash of disappointment when a voice broke through his concentration. "Brother," 

He looked up, surprised to hear Myron sounding so stern. The younger man was standing to one side and surveying him with a most disapproving eye. "Enough of this," Myron said gruffly. "You've caught her, the children won't fight against you now, let's get on with it."

Annoyance needled him as he raised an eyebrow at his sibling. "Really, brother, what's the point of a battle if you can't enjoy the spoils."

His hands moved along Alma's hips, savoring the curves of her hip bones as they arched downward. His fingers longed to go further, to find purchase between her legs. He'd discovered that trick when they were young, himself fifteen and Alma barely twelve. He'd learned, one solitary afternoon when the Ymbrynes had let them play alone, the sort of sounds and movements he could force from his sister's body with the careful use of his fingers. That day stood out in his memory as the day he'd come closest to truly mastering her. She'd remained docile for a week afterwards, hiding behind the skirts of Miss Avocet whenever she saw him approach. The feeling of power had been all-encompassing, addictive.

"Take your hands off her," he heard his brother say gruffly.

Jack looked up at him in surprise, one eyebrow raised. "I beg your pardon?"

"You've always had too much of an interest in her," Myron said, some of the mulish stubbornness he'd had as a child creeping into his voice. "It isn't right."

For a moment Jack was lost for words. The sudden shift of position, the odd, possessive tone in his brother's voice. Then something clicked and he understood. A smile, knowing and condescending, spread across his lips. Of course. How could he have missed it? All those years sneaking off alone with Alma, leaving his forlorn little brother behind. It was only natural that Myron would want to join in, to have his turn as well. "Why, brother," he said amusedly, "I do believe you're jealous."

"Jealous?" Myron appeared stunned. "Of course I'm not jealous."

"You want her for yourself," Jack accused, though he felt no malice. Myron had never been a rival and never would be, not as a leader, or a thinker, and certainly not when it came to Alma. "But don't worry. I'll share. Once I'm through with her, that is."

"Stop saying things like that," Myron yelled, face reddening. "For God's sake, man, she's your own sister. It's indecent."

Carefully, deliberately, Jack removed his hands from Alma's waist in a gesture of goodwill, holding them above his head in mock surrender. "As you wish, brother. I'll keep my hands to myself for now."

"And give her back some clothes," Myron whined. He seemed to be having trouble looking at Alma, as though some of her prudery had rubbed off on him.

Jack considered for a moment. Undressing his sister had always been a special treat, and allowing her clothes would mean being able to force them off of her when the time came. But then again, she made a lovely figure nude, and the humiliation in front of her precious children was an added bonus. He shook his head firmly. "I think not," he decreed. "I like the idea of Alma kneeling naked at our feet once we've become gods. It has a certain poetic justice about it. But I'll let you carry her till we get there."

He turned back to the waiting crowd of peculiars and Ymbrynes, the image he'd just described staying with him. What would he be able to do with her, once his new powers had manifested? He knew the answer, of course, but the thought gave him chills of anticipation. She would be entirely and fully his. He could hardly wait.


End file.
